


"Over, Under... then what?"

by Black_Tea_and_Bones



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Ava is adorable, Beatrice is in a well of denial, F/F, Shoelaces are hard, okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Tea_and_Bones/pseuds/Black_Tea_and_Bones
Summary: Anon prompted:“Ava doesn’t know how to tie her shoes so she keeps tripping over them and hurting herself and Mary doesn’t have the patience to teach her how to tie them so she enlists Beatrice“I took a few liberties, but the gist is there.Set in a universe where no one ever left Cat’s cradle and everything was fine forever.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 25
Kudos: 443





	"Over, Under... then what?"

**Author's Note:**

> This one was super fun to write. :D
> 
> I was very worried about Beatrice's voice though; she's so much more subtle than Ava... feel free to let me know if I got it, or completely flubbed it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The knock came just as Beatrice was putting aside her book for the night; marking her place with a well-worn black ribbon before setting it on her nightstand. She was quite certain there was a special Hell set aside for people who dog-eared their pages. She had learned the hard way that books leant to Mary were best forgotten. It wasn't that she _meant_ to destroy them, but Mary took great care with exactly two things; her shotgun, and her other shotgun. 

“Who's there?” This late in the evening the candidates were slim, so Beatrice wasn't surprised when it was Ava's voice that floated through the door.

“It's Ava, can I come in?” 

Beatrice bit her lip. On the one hand, Ava was the very definition of one of His lost little lambs, and shepherding was very much within Beatrice's job description. On the other, it had been a long day already, and Ava was rarely restful. Rather the opposite in fact. That was  _not_ however, an observation Beatrice had any intentions of investigating further.

“Just a moment.” 

She slipped a simple black cotton robe on over her nightdress and opened the door just far enough for Ava to duck inside. “It's late...” she cautioned her. “Mother Superion takes curfew very seriously.” 

“I know, I know!” In a baggy t-shirt and worn-looking sleep shorts that must have come out of the donation bin, Ava looked even more frazzled than usual. She was clutching a box and practically vibrating in place, her brown eyes wide in that shamelessly plaintive _Help me!_ stare that never failed to cut straight through a decade of carefully cultivated detachment and stab Beatrice right in the heart.

It was embarrassingly effective. 

“What can I do to help?” Offering assistance was, of course, a foregone conclusion. She'd known that before she opened the door. 

“Here!” Ava shoved the box into her hands. 

Beatrice took it with a frown and opened the lid. It was... running shoes? “I don't understand.” 

“It's all Lilith's fault!” 

That was... not illuminating. “Explain.”

“Ugh!” Ava threw herself down flat on the bed, arms wide in the drama of utter defeat. “Lillith invited me to go running with her,” she said to the ceiling. 

That explained the shoes, if not the problem. Beatrice fit the lid in under the box and sat down at Ava's hip; legs crossed, the box in her lap. “That sounds like progress.” 

“It's _so_ much progress! She even gave me a compliment today.” She flailed her way upright again, folding her long legs underneath her in an awkward flourish. “A _compliment,_ Bea!”

Beatrice deliberately ignored both the knee now knocking into hers and the casual way the new nickname had fallen from Ava's lips. As if that was just something they did. Knees and nicknames. Completely lost now, she prevaricated; “You have been trying very hard...”

“And this is what I get for it...” Ava took one shoe out of the box and held it up like it was the final sign of the apocalypse. “ _Laces_ , Bea. She gave me shoes with _laces,_ and I _cannot_ tell _Lillith_ that I don't know how to tie my own shoes. She will _never_ let me live it down.” 

Oh. That... made sense. Ava had been what? Seven, when she was paralyzed? Beatrice's experience with children was limited to say the least, but... “Your mother never taught you?” 

The brief, but achingly naked flash of pain that crossed Ava's face before she dropped her eyes to her lap made Beatrice want to bite her thoughtless tongue. 

“Single mom,” she said flatly. “All my shoes were velcro.” 

“I'm sorry.” Beatrice reached out a hand, hesitating briefly before laying the lightest of touches on the knee still pressing into hers. “I should have thought before I spoke.”

One shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. “It's okay.” 

It clearly wasn't, but Beatrice knew a  _keep out_ sign when she saw one. “I could show you,” she offered simply. 

Ava lifted her head, lower lip still a little wobbly. “Yeah?” 

“Of course.” Beatrice took her hand back and lifted the second shoe out of the box before setting it aside. “We'll start with the bunny ears.”

It did not go well. 

Ava was not a natural student at the best of times, and her growing frustration made her even worse. When she didn't get it the first, second or third time she got angry, not with Beatrice, but with herself. Beatrice suspected it was far more about twelve years lost to a sick bed in a cold and loveless institution (she refused to call it a home,) than it was about shoelaces, but that was a little beyond the scope of their current relationship. So she held onto her own temper, and showed her again. 

“Over, under, _around_ Ava. Then through.” 

“I _did_ go around!”

“Now pull the loop through the hole.”

“What hole?”

“That... oh. Let's try again.”

“There's something wrong with these laces!” 

“It's not the laces. Now, pay attention.” 

She did get it of course. Beatrice may have lost a year of her life getting her there, but she  _did_ get it, and the grin that broke across her face when she tied that first perfect bow was completely worth it. (Privately, Beatrice might have traded a dozen years to have that smile be for  _her_ and not a shoe, but that was a  _very_ private thought. So private she wasn't even going to admit to thinking it.)

Once she had both shoes done up, Ava launched herself off the bed into a happy little dance. “Take  _that_ Lillith!” She crowed. 

“Shhh!” Beatrice admonished her, fighting an answering smile. “You'll wake the whole Cradle.”

Ava slapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said through her fingers. “But Bea, c'mon, I nailed that!” 

Beatrice just shook her head. “If you don't get back to bed, you're going to sleep in, and  _then_ what will Lillith say?”

“Psht!” Ava waved off Beatrice's concern. “I've got this.” 

Beatrice gathered up the box, putting the lid back on, pushing it into Ava's hands. “Go, now. Before someone catches us.” 

Ava waggled her eyebrows. “Worried they're gonna get ideas, Bea?” 

“I'm worried _you're_ going to get in trouble for falling asleep in training,” Beatrice lied. She opened the door, glancing both ways down the hall before ushering Ava out. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Ava whispered, taking one step through the door before spinning on her heel and coming back to wrap her arms around Beatrice in a hug that was as unexpected as it was earth shattering. Beatrice froze, heart beating like it was trying to kick it's way out of her chest. Ava didn't notice of course, or if she did she didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” she breathed into Beatrice's ear, pressing the briefest of kisses to her cheek, causing a minor cardiac arrest and dealing the final blow to Beatrice's already fragile alter of denial before flitting away again and disappearing down the hall with a little wave. 

Beatrice closed the door behind her, turning and putting her back to it before sliding helplessly to the floor. 

God help her, what was she supposed to do  _now?_


End file.
